Chapter 68
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS happening?
I'm hallucinating.
Or stuck in a very, very, bad dream. An awfully horrible one where nothing makes sense; where up is down, and down is up, and massive man-eating wolves crash through windows into cabins in the middle of the woods and attack people.
I'm in a different dimension where people's faces contort into something not human with glowing eyes and sharp teeth and claws; where people are more or less not who or what they seem.
I'm living in a world where something else walks alongside normal people wearing our faces, pretending to be something they're not like wolves – quite literally – in sheep's wool.
Nothing makes sense.
But I know this much.
Something came out of the brush. Something tackled us.
It hit Sky and took him down, and he disappeared down the side of the hill into thicket and darkness, only the sounds of his pain-filled grunts and thuds growing quieter the farther down he falls.
"Sky!"
"Jace, no!"
My heart is pounding hard in my chest, bordering on painful.
I'm fearful it'll burst out of my chest and go rolling down the hill where Sky is because that's exactly how I feel as I hurry to the edge, struggling against Laken who's a lot stronger than he looks because he barely uses any kind of strength to pull me back to safety.
The second Sky disappeared over the edge, all of my fear and confusion went with him and all I could think about was the thing that tackled him.
He hardly made a sound. The only indication I have that he's still alive is the muffled grunt resonating from utter, dreadful silence after the last snap of a branch and the final thud as two heavy bodies landed at the bottom.
"I have to get to him!"
"He'll be fine," Laken protests. I manage to pry my arm from his grip, hurrying back to the edge. If I have to slide and roll, then so be it.
Despite everything that's transpired in the last few minutes, the wildness the day has been, or the fact that Sky seemed confident about what to do when the wolf showed up and then the gunfire that exploded around the cabin, I won't be able to breathe normally until I know he's safe.
"He didn't sound fine."
"Jace!"
I halt, freezing mid-step, fingers digging into grass and damp dirt. The authority in Laken's voice is unmistakable and the muscles in my body lock, following a command of someone else rather than that of my mind.
Tilting my head up, my breath hitches sharply, coming out in rasp.
Laken's blue eyes are glowing. At first, it seems a trick of the light, the contrast between moonlight and shadows but not enough moonlight illuminates this part of the path.
They shine back like blue laser beams, sharp and menacing, pulsing with a command I'm almost compelled to follow.
"If you want to help him, don't become a liability."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I snap, clambering back onto the path.
My heart rate skyrockets at that moment, a guttural roar rising up from the base of the hill.
It's animalistic and primal, and then the sure sounds of a fight follow; howls and roars of agony, thuds and the absolute certainty of breaking branches and snapping bramble.
Or are they breaking bones?
"What the hell?" Peering over the edge, my vision is useless out here. It's too dark to see anything. My heart continues beating hard. It pounds in my head, the pressure rising, and I feel the familiar throbbing of an incoming migraine.
Holy hell! Not now.
"This will all make sense once you know the full truth," Laken assures, his tone a lot calmer, closer to the pattern of speech I've come to associate him with – soft-spoken and reassuring but firm in some instances. "But right now, I have to get you out of here."
"You have to what?"
Laken surveys the woodland around us with a scrutinizing glare at the trees and shrubbery as if he doesn't quite trust that there's nothing else in hiding.
The very thought sends an unpleasant chill sweeping through me and now, the goosebumps coating my skin, making my hair stand on end has nothing to do with the night's chill or that I'm clad in cargo shorts and a thin jersey.
"I promise this will all make sense soon enough. But it's not safe out here. Not for either of us. Come on, we've got to keep moving."
"But what about Sky? I can't leave him out here with that...that thing."
"Sky's a lot tougher than he looks. He's got this. Trust me."
Nothing makes sense but I get the feeling that arguing with Laken will get me nowhere. And I get the feeling that if Laken really wants to, he could literally drag me to wherever he's planning to go, and I'll be able to do little about it.
He's different. To any other time I have seen him, observed how he communicates with others – it's as if he's become a whole other person.
With no other option, my heart heavy with pain and regret that becomes a physical ache clawing at my chest and throat, frustration bubbling to dangerous heights, and my legs as heavy as lead, I force myself onward as Laken navigates the way through the woodland.
We continue running, building distance between the cabin, hillside, and whatever might be chasing us.
Suddenly, gunfire explodes somewhere far behind us.
My heart all but stops. My feet stop moving. I'm breathing hard, my chest aching, burning from lack of oxygen and the strain of running up an elevation, sweat coating my forehead. Except, for a different reason, I can't seem to move any further.
Laken stops too. He whirls around, peering down the hill, into the thicket of trees and darkness we emerged from. His eyebrows are knitted tight, chest rising and falling but not nearly as rapidly as mine.
My legs give out and I crash to the dirt.
Breathing is too difficult. Thinking feels impossible.
The darkness glowering up at us takes on a life of its own as a guttural, primal roar rises from the base of the hill. Birds screech, the chaotic flapping of hundreds of wings bursting through canopy in a chorus of panicked chirps and songs.
Bats screech and flutter higher, disappearing into the night.
And then all falls silent.
"Sky...no."
His name leaves my mouth in a ragged whisper. The back of my eyes burn with the fresh assault of tears.
Branches creak and crack. Twigs snap and leaves crunch.
My breathing hitches. The woodland seems to grow still as the steady approach of heavy footfalls and the labored gasps of a wild animal bounds upward from the darkness.
Laken cocks the rifle he swiped off of that dead man from the cabin.
"Get behind me," he orders, stepping forward and aiming the rifle over the edge of the hill, into the supposed path that thing is taking.
I barely make it out of the way when the thing that tackled Sky over the edge comes lunging out of the shadows of the trees and brush. Laken ducks and rolls, whipping around in time to aim the rifle again.
The creature bellows – something between a snort and a growl – swiveling around to charge at Laken.
It lunges. Laken screams.
A gunshot echoes through the woodland and Laken ducks out of the way again as the creature – a massive black wolf – staggers, wobbling and snuffing hard. It growls, glowering at Laken before slumping over and falling onto its side.
I'm rooted to my spot, watching the slow, labored rise and fall of the wolf's side. It's still alive – barely.
"Let's go. Jace, move! Now! There might be more of them."
Snapping out of it, I shake my head, glancing back to the edge of the hill.
"But Sky –"
"Will find us again," he shoots back, determined and frustrated all the same. "He injured him." Laken gestures to the wolf lying feet away, still breathing and unmoving, and points to his shoulder, indicating an injury on the creature I might not have seen earlier.
Struggling to my feet, resisting the urge to go running down the hill to where Sky most likely is – probably bleeding and injured if he's not dead – I force my feet to continue.
"Here," he says, chucking at me the Staccato pistol he'd been carrying all day. I barely catch it before it topples to the ground. "Anything you don't recognize that comes charging at you, shoot first. Ask questions later."
BY THE MOON'S POSITION PEEKING through the canopy, it's well into the early hours of morning.
It's still dark. The world continues sleeping, unaware of the chaos that has transpired. Unaware of the definite shift and shatter of reality.
We have been walking for a long time. At certain times, I thought we were lost and Laken had no idea where he was taking us, wandering around until he found something reminiscent of civilization, but we've since descended a hill and ascended another, circling back on the far side.
The lake comes into view at the top of the hiking trail.
We're back on familiar turf, retracing the trail to the starting point from hours ago. It feels surreal how much has changed in such little time.
Yesterday, I thought I knew enough of the world to navigate it. I thought I knew my town and the people in it – born and raised in Schrattner's County, traveled to Murdoc Province and lived there for about a year even if most of it was spent between our temporary home and hospital stays.
Nothing could have prepared me for the wild ride the night has been, uprooting and eviscerating all I know.
Laken and I have barely spoken during our trek through the wilderness. A precaution, he calls it, to avoid drawing attention because among trees older than the first building and the first dirt road, sound carries like water for miles.
I've had the silence to think. And I've settled on a single realization: I don't know anything about this world.
There exists things – creatures – in it that make no sense. But they do. They live and breathe as people do. They walk among us.
And they've been here all along.
The closer we get to the main lodge where the headquartered building is situated, the heavier and more desperate grows the anticipation of safety.